


baby, we’ve got some making up to do

by SweetXscape



Category: Total Drama (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Dysfunctional Relationships, Established Relationship, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Jealousy, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Oral Sex, Shameless Smut, Slash, Smut, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:21:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25570513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetXscape/pseuds/SweetXscape
Summary: Chris and Chef have an on and off relationship. When Chris sabotages yet another one of Chef’s dates, it leads to a heated argument, which leads to lots of making up thereafter.
Relationships: Chef Hatchet/Chris McLean
Comments: 2
Kudos: 40





	baby, we’ve got some making up to do

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been unhealthily binge watching this show and this is what spawns from watching three whole seasons in one sitting and because there’s not enough content on these two out there. Enjoy!

“I can’t believe you would do something like that, but then again, I _can_ , because that’s just the kind of jerk you are!”

“Jerk?” Chris scoffs, hot on his heels as they storm into their shared large two-story cabin situated near the lake of Wawanakwa. “That’s the thanks I get for saving you from that motor mouth back there? You and I both know you weren’t into her.”

“And how would you know that?”

“Easy,” Chris scoffs. “She wasn’t your type.”

Chef whips around, so fast the man trailing behind him rams right into him as a result, letting out a small yelp in response.

Chef’s brows furrow as he folds his arms against his broad, muscular chest.

“And what exactly _is_ my type Chris?”

“Me!” Chris states, flashing a prideful, haughty smile his way.

Chef doubles over with laughter, earning himself a glare from Chris in return.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“Chris,” Chef answers, sobering up a little with an amused smile painted across his face. “If there was _ever_ such a thing as a ‘type’ and I had one, it certainly wouldn’t be you.”

“The past three years of your love life says different!”

“I don’t have a love life Chris.”

“Then what do you call what I walked in on? What we’ve had going on all this time, huh?”

“That’s called _life_ Chris - _my_ life that has absolutely _nothing_ to do with you anymore or have you forgotten about the fact that we’re broken up?”

“Who said we’re broken up?”

“I did! And it’s about time you accept the fact that it’s over between us. This is the third date of mine that you’ve purposely sabotaged because of your jealousy and inability to get over the fact that I don’t want to be with your ass anymore!”

“You and I both know you don’t mean that. Come on, you know you love me.” Chris grins, nudging him in the arm wiggling his eyebrows.

“That’s beside the point Chris.” Chef grumbles, turning away from the smaller man and making his way towards the stairs.

“Then what _is_ the point then?” Chris asks from behind him as they climb the stairs, prompting Chef to roll his eyes and huff out an annoyed sigh. “I mean really, we might as well get back together like we always do, due to the amount of times we’ve been through this. We both know how it’s gonna end, it’s how it always ends between us. I’m not complaining – far from it – but c’mon now.”

“Not this time Chris, you’ve crossed the line.” Chef replies with an indigent shake of his head, stopping in his tracks once they reach their formally shared master bedroom. “You refuse to respect any of the boundaries I’ve made clear to you. It’s obvious you don’t respect me as a person nor do you give a solitary fuck about anything I have to say. It goes in one ear and out the fuckin’ other.”

“ _Chef_ ,” Chris whines, in that way that he does when something is not going his way. “You know that’s not true. I always listen to what you have to say.”

“Bullshit.”

“No it’s not bullshit. I value what you have to say. I always have. I may not say it as often as I should, but even if we never became a thing, I’ve always cared about you Chef. You had to have known that. I nearly jumped off a bridge when you told me you were considering relocating to New York for that job offer. You remember that? How nutty I became because of it? How I got on my knees and _begged_ you to stay. How I made love to you all night long in a desperate attempt at proving to you that you had someone right here to love you just right, more than anyone ever possibly could in New York or elsewhere. I even cried and you _know_ I don’t _ever_ do that for just anyone, not even my own mother.”

Chef recollects that era quite vividly and as much as he didn’t want to admit it, Chris was right. Chef couldn’t recall ever seeing Chris behave that way before. He’d taken up drinking for a whole week as a result and Chris was never much of a hard drinker, smoked weed every now and then and a little bit of hookah, but was never a huge fan of alcohol, so the fact that it’d became a vice of his in such a short span of time frightened Chef and that was saying _a lot_ , considering the fact that he wasn’t frightened by many things in life.

And it was true, Chris had hardly, if ever, cried, not even at his own mother’s funeral. He could be sad at times, depressed even, but Chef couldn’t recall seeing Chris shed tears. It was only after they’d made love and Chris pleaded with him, with those wide earnest eyes, not to leave him and not to choose New York over him and their relationship.

How could Chef say no to that? Honestly, he had no intentions of actually relocating to New York, though he did consider it a strong possibility, he couldn’t see himself ever parting ways from Chris, no matter how much the smaller man, older than him by one measly year, annoyed him or how much they fought, in this seemingly endless merry go round that was their relationship.

There was too much love there and too much history for Chef to ever pick up and leave the love of his life, despite the obvious imperfections in their relationship. It was like Chris had said; they’d been friends first before anything else and that foundation would always remain, no matter what.

Witnessing Chris go from a happy-go-lucky, smug yet lovable jerk to a depressed, lovesick alcoholic was jarring. He’d never seen that side of Chris before and honestly, he never desired to see that side of him ever again.

“You know I love you Chef, I’d do anything for you…” Chris whispers out in a soothing tone of voice as he reaches a hand out to touch his arm, inching closer towards him until his body is pressing flush against his. “You have no idea what it did to me to see you with those other women. I knew they could never love you the way I do, the way I always have and always will.”

“Chris–”

Before Chef has the chance to finish his sentence, Chris is already sinking to his knees, hands tugging at his belt as he unfastens it and works to do away with his trousers and underwear.

“Chris, we can’t–”

“Yes we can, you’re not over me and I’m not over you. Tell me I’m lying and I’ll stop.”

“…”

“Exactly what I thought,” Chris smirks, dragging his underwear down his thighs, freeing his erection from its restraints. “Well, well, well, lookie what we have here, you’re already hard for me, no surprise there.”

“Shut it you arrogant prick and get to sucking.”

“I love it when you’re demanding. No one does it quite like you, babe.” Chris grins, opening his mouth and allowing Chef to slide his rigid flesh past his lips, until his tip presses against the back of his throat.

“And no one can blow me the way you can. Fuck, Chris.” Chef gasps, one of his hands falling into his scalp, tugging at the short black strands as Chris hummed in delight.

Chef watches the way Chris takes him with an ease that could have only come from experience. The way Chris gazes up at him with those glossy black eyes that fluttered when Chef placed his hands on his shoulders and began to thrust his hips into the wet caverns of his lover’s mouth, fucking his face the way Chris loved and thoroughly enjoyed.

“Oh, you like that Chris? Getting face fucked? Getting what you want outta me all the fucking time? Spoiled brat.”

Chris groans around his length, reaching one of his hands out to grip his balls while the other rested on his thigh to steady himself.

Chris takes all of him with ease, saliva drizzling down his chin as Chef’s hips took on a mind of their own, weeks of pent up anger and frustration releasing from him in that moment, the tension in his muscles easing with every thrust of his hips in Chris’ awaiting mouth, the pleasant sounds of approval sounding beneath him.

Chef knew Chris was enjoying this just as much as he was and a part of Chef resented that fact because he wanted Chris to pay for all the dates he’d intentionally sabotaged due to his own jealousy and lack of self-restraint.

You see, Chris had a thing about getting face fucked by him, the act of being down on his knees, having his cock halfway down his throat, so far, he would practically choke. It really got him going and there were times where he’d literally beg to be face fucked, to be held down while Chef pounded away until his face flushed pink and tears gathered at the corner of his eyes.

It was just as much of an adrenaline rush for Chef as it was for Chris.

“Chris,” Chef gasped over the obscene wet noises that sounded in the otherwise quiet room from Chris’ mouth. “Feels so good…”

Chris squeezes his thigh, groaning and never taking his eyes off of him as he bobbed his head in time for his thrusts, causing an explosive sensation in his loins that had his head falling back and his lips parting as his moans echoed the expansive bedroom.

Chef’s large hand covers the back of Chris’ head, temporarily slowing his movements as he eased his cock further down the other man’s throat, until Chris’ nose was pressed into his navel.

Chef’s legs nearly buckled under its own weight at the feeling alone - wet and warm it was - before he held Chris’ head in place and began to piston his hips, thrusting his hips in and out of his lover’s mouth, evoking erotic gargling noises in response as he gagged on his cock.

Chef came from the sounds alone, filling his lover’s throat with his semen, the thrusts of his hips gradually becoming slow and steady as he emptied out every last drop down Chris’ throat.

When he finally released him from his hold, Chris was gasping for air, hair pointing in every direction, saliva and cum dripping from his chin, lips red and swollen, eyes widen with lust and dilated pupils with a flushed face to match. He looked every bit of the wreckage Chef had felt inside all of these depressing weeks without him.

“Chef,” Chris gasps, barely catching his breath as he gazes up at him with stars in his eyes. “Chef, fuck, that was everything, baby.”

“You really liked it?”

“Oh, you know I loved it sweet cheeks. We _have_ to do it again.” He breathes out, getting to his feet on wobbly legs, clinging to his body for support. “God I missed you, so much.”

Chris is kissing him sloppily on the mouth while Chef is lifting him up and carrying him over to the king sized bed and dropping him off there in a not so gentle way.

“But first, we’ve got some making up to do.” Chris smirks, pulling him onto the bed. “And I’m topping.”

“You always top,” Chef grumbles. “You’re the one that’s making it up to _me_ , remember?”

“Nope!” Chris smirks, climbing on top of him and straddling his hips. “Now spread those legs for me, baby. We’ve got some making up to do.”

Chef groans in annoyance but complies anyway, because Chris was the only man he’d ever allow to top him, because he loves this asshole despite his many flaws and then some and he briefly wonders if it will ever come a time where he will ever leave this relationship for good.

Probably not.


End file.
